


Seconds

by strifery



Series: Symbiotic [2]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Again sort of, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifery/pseuds/strifery
Summary: On the morning of Galo's second date with the man who's been living in his house for half a year, Galo needs some help putting out one last-minute fire.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: Symbiotic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507169
Comments: 13
Kudos: 285





	Seconds

_"I already showed you my best outfit.  
I keep getting more and more worried.  
You still haven’t told me your favorite movie.  
I still have so much to ask." _

_\- Red Velvet, "My Second Date"_

▲▼▲

“Oh my god.”

“Galo, you need to _calm down._ ”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Galo repeats, and Aina ducks as a pair of jeans nearly clocks her in the face, instead missing her to sail over the back of the couch. The already modest living room of Galo Thymos feels even smaller with the two seasoned firefighters crowded in by several piles of clothing, all ransacked and scattered around as if Galo were trying to build some kind of nest out of sweatpants and stretched out V-necks. 

Aina Ardebit has seen her best friend work himself up over plenty of things over the years — fires they couldn’t douse in one night, mushrooms left off his pizza, dogs wearing vests (“They have JOBS, Aina!”), and, more recently, anything and everything regarding Lio Fotia. That being said, though puzzled by the intensity with which Galo is raiding his closet, she’s hardly surprised to see him darting around like a self-contained tornado as the morning light crawls into afternoon honey outside his window.

Today is Galo’s second date with Lio Fotia. 

Not the first. The first went fine — more than fine, actually, if the moony-eyed gazes Aina caught between the two men at the fire station were any indication. Which means he’s earned a second, passing the test with flying colors.

And speaking of flying colors, Galo throws a few more shirts, and this time Aina snatches two of them out of the air before they can hit her, the third one landing just out of her reach. 

“Galo! Seriously, what the _hell?!”_

“I can’t find it!” Galo wails, peeking under a rumpled pair of leggings that Aina is almost sure are hers (it wouldn’t be the first time; laundry tends to get a little mixed between shifts). All he finds underneath is a wrinkled turquoise tie decorated with tiny pizzas. He seems to consider it a moment, weighing it in his palm and looking to Aina — she shakes her head. He drops the accessory unceremoniously and scrubs his hands through his hair, gritting his teeth in frustration. “What am I gonna wear if I can’t find it?!”

Aina raises an eyebrow and gestures to the mess they currently sit in — she honestly didn’t even know Galo _owned_ this many clothes. “Oh, I dunno, how about _anything?_ He’s probably already seen you in most of this stuff anyway.” 

Galo shoots her a pouty look, his eyes as wide and watery as a puppy’s. “Obviously I can’t wear just _anything,_ Aina!” He wrestles a shirt over his head, a simple black and grey striped thing Aina’s seen him in plenty of times. He looks to her for an opinion again and she nods, but he pulls it off anyway, leaving him shirtless once more. “This is a date, it’s gotta be special!” 

Aina rolls her eyes. “I never pegged you as one to get so worked up over clothes. You should’ve told me, I would’ve bugged Lio to drag you out to the mall with us ages ago.” Galo huffs through his nose, the sound somewhat impatient. 

“I mean, I like looking _good,_ obviously, but I don’t know nearly as much about clothes as you guys. Besides, this is important because I already wore my best outfit on our _first_ date!” Galo inspects a forest green sweatshirt and shakes his head, casting it aside with a resigned sigh. “Lio always looks so cool — I can’t just go meet him wearing something I yanked out of the hamper!” 

Aina wrinkles her nose. “Ew, you do that?”

“Oh, like you haven’t worn those sweats two days in a row.” Aina glances down at her own outfit: sporty, casual, and definitely pulled off the back of a chair after Galo asked her to come over. She gives a little shrug. 

“ _Touché.”_

A loud splash of color catches the pilot’s eye as she surveys the room, and Aina slides off the couch to make her way towards it, stepping gingerly over Galo’s laundry. She kicks a spare pair of long wool socks away from a power outlet — firefighter instincts never sleep. 

“Hey, what about this?” Galo’s head perks up, the spikes of his hair bouncing as she holds up the garment in question: a letterman jacket, heavy and warm, lined with an inviting white fleece that’s soft to the touch. Chunky stitching down the front outlines the familiar shape of the Burning Rescue crest — Aina recognizes the patch as one they had all received as rookies, stuffed into their supply kits between the first aid kit and the pocket-sized bottle of cooling gel that she still keeps in her purse (you know what they say about old habits). On one sleeve, another patch reads “03” in blocky, varsity-style numbering, the leather beneath it as white and pristine as a white-walled tire on a new cruiser.

Aina whistles appreciatively, running her hands over the seam of leather where ivory sleeves meet a hot orange body in a brazen clash so bad that it’s good. 

_“Dude._ Where on earth did you get _this?”_

Galo looks over, blinking in surprise when he sees the jacket in her arms. 

“Oh! I forgot I’d pulled that out.” He walks over to where she stands, taking one of the sleeves in his hands to show her the smaller patches decorating the other side of the breast — another Burning Rescue logo, this one simplified down to the fist in the center of the main crest, a pair of crossed axes, and “FDPP” in fuzzy, blocky letters. He gently tugs at the jacket to get her to release it, and when she does, he flips it over and shows her his favorite part: the large, embroidered script spelling out “Thymos” in a fashion bold enough to make a high school quarterback cry.

“Lio had this made for me,” he explains, draping the jacket over his arm with a surprising sudden tenderness. “To thank me for letting him stay here, I guess.” Galo shrugs at that, looking aside, and Aina gets the feeling that more than a few fights had led up to the final creation of this jacket, a physical truce. Lio could be just as stubborn as Galo when he wanted to, and during the first month they had cohabitated, it was no secret to any of the Burning Rescue crew that he often wanted to. Loudly. 

“Have you ever worn it?” 

Galo shakes his head, and as he scratches at the back of his neck, the look that crosses his face is strangely ashamed. “No, not yet...not that I don’t like it or anything!” He adds the second half of his sentence a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and Aina startles as he clears his throat awkwardly. “I just want to keep it nice, y’know? I don’t wanna go running into a blaze and get it all burnt up, or drop pizza on it or something.” 

Aina rolls her eyes. “The fires are what we have uniform jackets for, which you’d know if you _wore one_.” She punctuates her statement with jab to his bare chest, punching a soft laugh out of him. 

“And risk throwing off my groove? Never.” Galo goes quiet, the bright blues of his eyes transfixed on the jacket in his arms. He reverently smooths out a crinkle in one sleeve with a brush of his fingertips, and Aina folds her arms. She wasn’t born yesterday, after all.

“There’s another reason you don’t wear this jacket, isn’t there?” Galo winces, as if cut to the heart. As his best friend, Aina is nothing if not sharp as a barb and too invested in his happiness to miss a single beat. 

The firefighter sighs and turns on his heel, flopping dramatically onto the couch, the letterman splaying over his chest like a blanket. One of his knees begins to bounce with nervous energy. Aina perches herself on the back of the touch, nudging his shoulder with her foot. 

“C’mon big guy, spill.” Galo groans, looking at her upside-down as he leans his head back.

“It’s just-! I hate the idea of him thinking he _owes_ me something for all this. Like everything between us is just some big transaction that one day I’ll pull the plug on when I’ve had enough. It’s like he’s trying to make sure his debts are clear in case he has to run off again.” Aina hums thoughtfully. 

“I remember you guys fighting about that a few times,” she muses, her thoughts drifting a few months into the past. “Is that still an issue?” 

Galo closes his eyes, huffing out a grunt. “Not really...not as much as it used to be, anyway. But I’ve kinda avoided wearing the jacket because of it...I know it was just him trying to show some gratitude, which is sweet! But I don’t really want to risk accepting that any of this is...well-”

“Temporary?” Aina finishes for him, and Galo snaps his fingers.

“That’s the word,” he confirms, more than a hint of gloom in his voice as he repeats it. “Temporary.”

Aina lets out another hum, tapping her feet against the couch cushions.

“Well, try to think of it this way,” she supplies after a moment, “It’s not so much of a debt paid as it is a compromise. He’s thanked you the way he’s wanted to this whole time, but he still stuck around, and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Galo gestures to the clothing littered around the room, as if to say _“Isn’t it obvious?”_ What he does say is: “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” 

“ _And,”_ Aina adds pointedly, “you two are going on your second date today. Which means there’ll probably be a third. And a fourth.” She watches as Galo’s ears start to go pink, his expression going soft and stupid with affection and embarrassment in equal measure.

“Aina...” 

“And a fifth.”

“Aina.”

“And a wedding, where I’ll have to be Maid of Honor.”

“ _Aina!”_

“And children, who I’ll have to be an aunt to.”

 _“AINA, OH MY GOD.”_ Galo now glows brightly with a redness that would rival the lights of any of the rescue engines, and he gives her knee a light shove. Aina cackles freely and slides down the back of the couch to sit beside him. 

“I’m just saying,” she says, a few laughs still bubbling out between words. Galo narrows his eyes, scandalized. 

“You’re terrible.” She pokes him in the shoulder.

“And _you’re_ going to be late if you don’t hurry up. Wear the jacket. It’ll look good on you, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you finally getting some use out of it.” Galo’s breath huffs out in a raspberry, hugging the jacket close to his chest.

“But what if I mess it up?” Aina gets a feeling that Galo isn’t just referring to his clothing, and she leans her head empathetically on his shoulder.

“You’ve been living together for over half a year now. At this point, dates are pretty much a formality; a formality that only people who want futures go through.” Aina shrugs, the motion bumping their shoulders together. “No offense, but being scared of him leaving you now sounds pretty idiotic to me.”

Galo bristles, not out of insult, but an odd sense of pride. “I _am_ idiotic. I’m the world’s number one-!”

“-firefighting idiot, I _know.”_ Aina rises off his shoulder, instead standing on the couch cushions and pointing a finger between his eyes; they cross briefly as they try to follow her movements. _“_ So _obviously_ you should wear the jacket to prove it, dummy! Show the world the kind of guy that’s got the leader of Mad Burnish buying him custom gifts!” 

Galo pauses thoughtfully and holds up the jacket, eyes raking over it. A slow smile begins to spread across his face, his growing excitement shining through brighter and brighter like a stubborn wick finally taking to flame.

“It’s not what I’ve been looking for, but I guess it’ll do.”

Aina cocks her head to one side, a question posed but never answered resurfacing in her mind. 

“By the way, what _have_ you been looking for this whole time?” Galo hangs his head in defeat, another puppy-like pout souring his smile. 

“My favorite shirt from Chief’s restaurant! He made it just for me after the reopening! It says ‘Best Pizza Boy’ on it and everything!” Galo gives a sad little sigh. “It really gets my burning soul going, y’know. It speaks to me!”

He looks up and finds his best friend giving him a flat stare, the same one she uses when he asks for the kid’s menu at restaurants. ( _Of course_ he gets the adult food, but turning down free crayons? Nobody’s that heartless.) She says nothing to him, jumping off the couch and gathering a few scrapped articles of clothing in her arms. Galo barely has time to shield his face before she starts pelting them relentlessly at him, curling in on himself like a turtle as a stray button nicks his knee. _  
_

“Just go get changed!”

▲▼▲

Galo is only five minutes late, which is fine, but also terrifyingly _not fine,_ as he reminds himself while sprinting across the crosswalk adjacent to the meetup spot he'd arranged with Lio last week (and double-checked the night before, and once this morning, and again eleven minutes ago as he left the house...).

He always feels bad being late for things, but he feels considerably worse about it whenever it comes to Lio. Every feeling is considerably _more_ than normal with Lio, that's just the smaller man's effect on him; the bad ones they take in stride together, they fight out and roll through like a firestorm, but everything else? Laughter and comfort? The homey feeling he gets when he walks through his — _their_ — front door, doubled and reinforced by the smell of rosy shampoo on the air or soft singing drifting out of the kitchen? _Love?_

Oh, he'd extinguish the stars for it a million times over. Two million if Lio asked. 

By the time he reaches the end of the block, Galo can feel himself breaking a sweat, and he slows down, pushing the sleeve of the letterman up his arm to wipe his forehead with bare skin. Apparently among the barrage of clothes Aina had pelted at him, there had been one coherent outfit saved for last that she chucked at him, demanding he put it on while stomping into the kitchen to lay waste to his ice cream supply. He straightens his sleeve and tugs nervously at the jacket's ends, making sure it shows just enough of the black and grey of his shirt — the same one he'd shrugged off earlier brought back at Aina's insistence. The dark color makes his jeans look bright, a deep blue contrast to play off the loudness of the orange leather.

"Galo!" The call of his name is a gunshot, and Galo's poor heart rears and gallops out of its starting gate, going straight for gold. Lio _is_ gold, spun like thread as the afternoon sunlight catches his hair. He waves from in front of the pizza parlor, and the combination of his partner's gorgeous smile and the wafting scent of roasting garlic is enough to make Galo want to pilot Lio towards the nearest chapel. He doesn't, because that would be even more mortifying than being late, but the thought is there.

Galo breaks into a jog, waving back, and Lio matches his pace, all but leaping into his arms as they meet halfway. Lithe arms circle around his waist, and Lio presses a kiss to his cheek that burns in the best way. Before Galo can pepper him with more, Lio gently guides him back, looking him up and down — Galo's mouth goes dry at the way his eyes catch on the jacket, soft lavender sparkling with satisfaction.  
  
"You're wearing the jacket I got you," Lio says softly in lieu of greeting, a pleased smile sitting pretty on his lips. Galo decides then and there that he'll sleep in it if it gets Lio to smile that way more often. "It looks good."

Lio leans in again to kiss his nose, barely needing to rise onto his toes thanks to a sleek pair of heeled boots that Galo can swear he didn't own yesterday. _"You_ look good." 

"All for you, firebug," Galo says, and for good measure, he pulls Lio in for a proper kiss. Something tense and rocky at the bottom of his stomach melts in relief when Lio kisses back wholeheartedly, cupping his face and only pushing back slightly with his thumbs to break them up before they can dissolve into a full-blown public makeout. Galo's smile is syrupy and dazed as Lio smiles up at him, and it's only when Lio turns to walk towards his bike with a flirty swing of his hips does Galo notice what _he's_ wearing.

"Is...is that my shirt?"

Lio turns, blinking owlishly as he cups his helmet in one hand. In the honey-thick sunlight, his light blush looks peachy — Galo quietly files away "peach" as another pet name to try out sometime. 

It certainly is, even though Lio doesn't answer right away; Chief's friendly and familiar logo is unmistakable, and neither is the curly white script where the restaurant's name should be reading "Best Pizza Boy". Lio has it bunched into a ball just above his hip, secured with a hair tie into a tight yet breezy look more suitable to his slender frame. A sliver of pale skin peeks out between the hem and the thick belt sitting loosely across his hips, doing nothing as usual to actually keep his pants on his body (as if they would need any help anyways — Galo is convinced he'll catch Lio vacuum-packing himself into his clothes one of these days). 

Lio's long eyelashes flutter delicately as his movements stutter for a split second; he's not shying away whatsoever, but if anyone were to make him pause in his composure, it would always be Galo.

"Yeah," he answers coolly, not breaking eye contact with Galo as if his life depended on it. Lio doesn't need to say that he thought he'd look good, because they both know Lio looks good in everything, so instead he says: "I thought you'd like it."

"I like everything you wear," Galo answers dumbly, and Lio's flush deepens slightly under his unabashed stare. 

"Sure, but this is one of your favorites, right?" When Galo nods, he continues, feigning nonchalance. "Exactly. I wanted to look good for our date, and I found it while I was doing laundry at the station." Lio shrugs. "It's soft, casual, and something you already like wearing, so why wouldn't you like it on me? Seemed pretty fool-proof." It's not, in fact, fool-proof, because Galo is right here, foolishly falling for Lio more with every word he says, harder, deeper, and faster than before. He must stare a little too long, because Lio clears his throat.

"Does it bother you?" Galo doesn't know it, but Lio has an extra shirt stuffed into his helmet if he says yes. Just in case. 

Galo seems to snap out of his haze at that, shaking his head vigorously in both an answer and an attempt to shake coherent thoughts back into his head.

"N-not at all!" This time Galo clears his throat, redness blooming across his cheeks to meet at the bridge of his nose like storybook lovers. "You're right. I _do_ like it on you." Lio's sated smile spreads into something beautiful and bright, sending bursts through Galo's chest that linger and leave embers like fireworks. 

"Glad to hear it." He tosses his head towards their waiting shared motorbike, crooking a finger towards Galo as he designates himself the one driving for the day. Fine by Galo; he doesn't actually know where they're going. "Ready to go?"

"Always," Galo responds, bounding excitedly up to the bike like a golden retriever going to the park. Lio swings himself into the driver's position with practiced ease and effortless grace, though he startles as Galo immediately wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder. Lio chuckles softly and kisses his temple, and for the first time, Galo vaguely registers that Lio is wearing lip gloss. He preens internally at the idea that he hasn't been the only one dressing up for their date.

"You trust me?" Lio asks, punching an unseen location into the bike's navigation system. Galo tries to crane his head nosily for a look, but Lio conveniently chooses that moment to lean casually over the handlebars, blocking his view and distracting him as the slice of exposed skin under his top — _Galo's_ top — widens, giving him a glance at the handsome planes of his back. Galo coughs into his hand, fidgeting with his jacket before propping his chin back on Lio's shoulder.

"With my burning soul!" Lio shakes his head fondly.

"Better hold on, then."

Lio revs the engine, kicking off the ground into a sharp U-turn that has Galo spitting out blonde hairs as they blow into his mouth, dust and pebbles blowing back onto the sidewalk.

"Lio! This is a one-way street!" 

Lio throws his head back and laughs freely into the wind, and as they race off towards the city limits, Galo's heart goes for the victory lap.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add an additional chapter if I feel up to it, who knows? I honestly just really wanted to write something quick and sweet. I hope y'all enjoyed! :D


End file.
